A Day In The Life
by Shawn's Pineapple
Summary: Shawn's POV. A day in the life of one Shawn Spencer, 24 style.
1. 11:33am 12:00pm

**Title:** A Day In The Life

**Author:** Shawn's Pineapple

**Rating:** T / PG - 13ish

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Psych or anything you may and probably will recognize. All characters and story elements, except the plot of this, belong to Steve Franks and USA Network. James Roday owns himself and sadly I never will.

**Summary:** Shawn's POV. A day in the life of one Shawn Spencer, 24 style.

* * *

_It was gaining on me. What it was, I wasn't sure but I knew I wasn't going to sit around and find out. I could hear it catching up to me, the growling louder than I remembered now._

_It was hungry._

_And it wanted me._

_I ran faster, as fast as I could go while looking back every other second. I could see its bright, red, evil eyes in the darkness, just waiting for me to slip up and devour my existance before I could even scream._

_That did not sound pleasant. At all._

_The rumbling from the beast was so loud now, that I could barely hear myself breathing. It sounded like it hadn't eaten in a month. Of course, it would pick the time when I came by to fill its stomach..._

_I rounded a bend and found myself in a clearing. The sun was shining here. The birds were chirping. And Gus was sitting on a blanket with a picnic basket._

_"Dude, what are you doing here?" I asked, more confused by the presence of Gus and the basket than the fact that the sky just parted and the sun was shining._

_"I don't know," he shrugged from his spot on the red blanket, "It's your dream."_

_"Hmm," I mused out loud. That made sense, in a weird sort of way. I took in the scene in front of me; there was practically a mountain of food on the blanket, all fresh and recently made, "You made me a picnic? That was so nice of you, man." I walked over toward the food and took a seat on the blanket._

_"I didn't make it," Gus announced as I sat down, "It was like this when I got here."_

_I glanced over at him, curiously, "Where did you come from anyway?"_

_"Like I said, Shawn, this is your dream. Maybe you wanted company while you ate."_

_I considered that. And then I totally forgot about everything because a big, chocolate cake was staring me in the face. It was like heaven covered in Devil's Food frosting._

_Before I could reach out and taste it, I heard the growling coming from the forest again. I turned to see if Gus heard the noise, but he was gone now. My dreams sure were strange..._

_I saw the creature coming out of the thick bushes and what I saw brought a scream to my lips. Lassie._

My eyes flew open and I hesitantly looked over at the clock, because I'm known to do that in the morning, and I groaned. That was no monster, or Lassie, it was my stomach. Why couldn't it have waited until after noon to wake me up? That was just so wrong...and yet, I was almost thankful because whether I wanted to believe it or not, I _was_ starving and the pain in my stomach was interfering with my usually great dreams. Although, I have to admit, the cake did look delicious...

I almost fell out of the bed as I rolled back over, but thankfully, the tangle of blankets stopped the floor from breaking my fall. The door was closer to this side of the bed, which meant a shorter walk, and any way to make this journey shorter was definitely a plus. It was bad enough I had to walk all the way into the kitchen now, so every step I could save made me less likely to fully wake up. After all, I was just going to grab a bowl of cereal and then fall back to sleep. Well, after eating the cereal, but I didn't hate the idea of eating it while I laid in my warm, not slept in enough, according to me, bed.

At times like this, I really wish I still lived with my dad. I kind of miss the days when he'd have breakfast ready for me and I could just sit there and eat someone else's hard work; the only muscles I needed to move were the ones in my jaw. And maybe the ones that were in my arm...and hand so I could actually get the food _to_ my mouth. And, it was at times like that, when I missed being a baby, so I didn't have to do anything but spit up my food on people.

I miss being younger.

The kitchen wasn't as messy as I thought I'd left it but that didn't bother me, there was always today. At least it was easier to find a bowl and a spoon and the faster I could shove the delicious flavor of Cheerios in my mouth, the faster I'd get back in my bed and hopefully, sleep the day away. I didn't mind mornings really, I just didn't like the fact that they started so early. I spent enough time getting up early to go to school, I think life owes me big time now.

I searched the counter for that yellow box of love and found it almost instantly. It was almost empty, showing my less than enthusiastic approach at cooking, and that meant I would have to buy some more soon. Or I could go see if Dad had any. I think he still eats Cheerios...

I found the carton of milk right next to the Cheerios and...hey, wait. I could've sworn I put that away yesterday. I wasn't drunk, so that wasn't an excuse. And I wasn't sleep walking, at least not to my knowledge anyway. Maybe Gus came and left it out on purpose so I'd have to get out of the house. He was good but he wasn't _that_ good. Was he?

Oh, wait, nevermind. I remember now. I got up like this yesterday and forgot to put it away before I went back to sleep on the couch. Well, that solves that mystery. My daily quota is fulfilled. That should make Gus extremely happy.

But what was I going to put in my Cheerios?

There was water but that would just be weird. That's not to say that I haven't tried that before because yeah, I so did.

I could always just eat it dry. No milk, no water, no nothing. But that wouldn't satisfy the hunger of my soul. The hunger of my stomach, sure, but not my heart that craved the promise of lower cholesterol the box proudly displayed. I don't have high cholesterol and I don't think the milk has anything to do with lowering it but still, it would bother me.

Then, again, I could just use the milk. Who's to say it goes bad when it's left out? Those people who put the warnings and expiration dates on things don't know anything. I've had stuff stay out longer than it's "_supposed_" to and it never tasted any funnier than it usually did, to me anyway.

I wonder how bad the milk smells...

I placed my bowl on the counter and picked up the white carton. I shook it, trying to figure out if it sounded lumpy or out of the ordinary for milk. It didn't. Then, I smelled it. It was kind of hard to smell_ through _the carton but I wasn't about to just stick my nose in there. What if it really did reek? I'd probably never be able to get rid of that smell. Everywhere I go and everyone I sniff would all smell...moldy and sour and...I just don't want to think about it anymore.

Surprisingly, the milk didn't smell...that bad, anyway. But I still wasn't about to use it.

So, I grabbed the box of Cheerios and poured as much as I could into the big fruit bowl that I had in my apartment for some weird reason. I didn't mind though, it was a big bowl and since I didn't like making multiple trips to the kitchen, it was nice.

I snatched up my spoon as I made my way back toward my room. Just the thought of my bed made me sleepy and I really, desperately wanted to eat this food as fast as I could. Maybe the _biggest bowl I owned _wasn't such a good idea after all.

Oh, well.

Just before I could step into my sanctuary, there was a knock on the door and I seriously almost cried in that very spot.

"Whaaaaat?" I whined, hoping whoever was on the other side would just leave.

"It's me. Your dad called."

Oh, Gus, you're my best friend and everything but I could very easily kill you right now with this very bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios...although, it would be messy and I'd never get around to cleaning it. There's always a downside to everything.

"What did he want?" I still hadn't moved from my spot by the bedroom door. It was heartbreaking. With just a few steps, I'd be in my safezone, away from the rest of the world...and Gus. It was like it was taunting me. _'The bed's so soft and the blankets are so comfy, it's like being in heaven. But you're not allowed in heaven, Shawn. You know why? Because no one likes you.' _Stupid few steps.

"Shawn, I'm not going to talk to you through the door." Why not? I smelled the milk through the carton. "Either open it up or I'm leaving."

I was all for him leaving so I could go back to sleep but I couldn't shake the feeling that if he left, he wasn't ever coming back. I wouldn't put it past him. Especially in the morning; I know how cranky Gus can get.

I sighed, "Fine, fine. I'm coming."

I moved the bowl of cereal over to my right arm and unlocked the door with my free hand. Gus was probably going to yell at me for sleeping so late, when in reality, I was up way too early today.

"Finally," I heard Gus mutter as I swung the door open, "I thought you went back to sleep."

"I was planning on it."

Gus rolled his eyes before they fell on my bowl of uneaten, unmilked cereal. I unconsciously picked at the cereal pieces like popcorn and crunched on them; they sounded extra loud without milk. I'd forgotten that. Hmm.

"What the hell are you doing?" Gus asked, looking at the bowl and then looking at me, "What? You can't afford milk? Or did you leave it out again?"

I was surprised; how did he know? Maybe I _was_ wrong. He probably did leave it on my counter yesterday. Oh, he _was_ good.

"You say that like I do it all the time, dude. It was once or maybe twice if I'm remembering a real memory or not from yesterday. Besides, it's not that bad this way. Want some?" I held the bowl out toward him, a slight grin on my face.

His face, though, wasn't as happy as mine seemed to be by the presence of the Cheerios.

"No, Shawn. I do not want some." I heard the annoyance in his voice.

I guess it was time for my day to start.

"Go throw that out or put it back in the box and get dressed. Your dad called, he wants us to come over for something."

Oh, yeah. I totally forgot he said something about my dad calling.

"First off, why would my dad call you? And second, what could he possibly want us to come over for? I haven't done anything to him in the last few days, and he usually only calls when he wants to kill us."

"You mean you." Gus reminded me.

I rolled my eyes, "Fine, me." It didn't make me feel any better agreeing to that. "That's not my point," I began again, "Something's up."

"Look, all he told me was to tell you to get your ass up and get over there before noon. As for why he called me, I have no idea," Uh-oh, I know that tone. That's the tone of "Shawn, you're an oblivious idiot," or something like that. I just know it's when the sarcasm comes out to play, "Maybe the fact that you left your cell phone at _his_ house and he knew you probably wouldn't hear the phone here, considering it's in the kitchen. In one of the cabinets!"

He had a point.

"It's only in there because I don't have a phonejack in the kitchen, Gus." I replied, casually. It was the truth.

"You have a phonejack in your bedroom, Shawn!"

Was he joking? He _had_ to be joking.

"Duh." Did he really expect me to have a phone next to my head when I'm asleep? That would wake me up...

He scoffed, "Why does it matter where it is, anyway, Shawn? It's not like you answer the phone and you'd, more than likely, sleep through the ringing. You'd sleep through an earthquake..."

"Yeah," I smiled, remembering the nice feeling of sleep, "That's true."

The way Gus' face contorted after that made me wish I was still sleeping. At least then I could get away. He looked like he was going to attack me with a bat. It's a good thing I don't have a bat, "Just get dressed."

* * *

**A/N:** Yes, I know it's a slow start but you have to remember, it's just the beginning of the day...well, Shawn's day. Either way, the action/adventure/fun WILL come, don't worry about it one little bit.


	2. Noon to 1pm

**A/N:** So, I started this story like two years ago, forgot about it, then let my fiance read it today and remembered how much I loved it. Since it is from two years ago, some things may have happened on the show and be inconsistent. So, for the sake of continuity, let's say this takes place 2008-ish. And I know this is chapter two, but I didn't want to re-upload the story itself. :P

* * *

**Noon to 1pm**

I watched as Gus walked through the door frame and grabbed my bowl of Cheerios. I fought to hold onto it but he pulled harder and because I didn't want to make a mess that I had to clean, I unwillingly gave it to him. He grinned smugly as he walked passed, the bowl of cereal being held far away from me. That was so cruel.

Sighing, I shut the door and leaned my forehead against the cool wood. I wanted to slam my head against it a few times but I resisted the urge. Today was going to be a very long day.

"_Come on_, Shawn," Gus whined from the living room.

I growled against the door, "_Alright._ I'm going, I'm going." I pushed myself away from the wall and sighed.

"Good." I could hear his self-satisfied grin from here. I narrowed my eyes at nothing, hoping he'd feel my annoyance. From the sound of things, he didn't.

"But I'm not going to like it." I muttered as I walked back to my room. As I passed the living room, I heard the TV turn on but I knew it wasn't a long term activity.

"You have until Home Improvement's over, Shawn. If you're not ready by then, I'm leaving without you."

Home Improvement? What were we, trapped in the 90's?

"Yeah, yeah," I rolled my eyes and dragged my feet into my room. _"You have until Home Improvement's over, Shawn. If you're not ready by then, I'm leaving without you," _I repeated, my voice mocking.

"I heard that!" Gus yelled through the wall.

"You were supposed to!" I retorted. Okay, so he really wasn't supposed to hear that but he didn't have to know.

I walked over to my dresser and grabbed the first pieces of clothing I could find; my baby blue shirt and a pair of jeans. It wasn't like I was getting dressed up to take Jules on a date or to meet the president; both of which I had high on my list of things to do before I died. Well, maybe not so much the meeting of the president as taking Jules on a date, but still. Besides, I looked good in blue. Well, I liked to think so anyway.

With the clothes in my hands, I started toward the bathroom, ready to take a shower, but once again the almighty voice of a higher power - namely Gus - sounded through my apartment.

"There's no time for a shower, Shawn. Your dad's going to be mad enough as it is because we're so late."

_Great._ Not only do I have to face my dad's vengeance this early, I couldn't even have ten minutes to sing in my shower and have one happy moment to myself before all hell broke loose.

Blankly, I backed away from the bathroom and over to my bedroom door. I slammed it a little harder than I should've but that just seemed to amuse Gus.

He laughed, "_Somebody's_ cranky this morning."

"I am not cranky!" I shouted back. Okay, maybe I was, just a tiny, itsy bit.

"Your denial is proof enough! Now, get dressed!"

"I am!" I screamed back, exasperated, "Pushy, jeeze."

I heard him laugh again.

If we survived seeing my dad, I was going to kill Gus, the best way I knew how: make him watch a marathon of Grey's Anatomy. Not even he would be able to stand that much medicine and drama in one sitting.

I hurried to change before Gus sent another remark my way. I tossed my pj's to the floor, to be picked up...never, practically threw my clothes on, and went back into the bathroom. From off the sink, I grabbed my extra large bottle of superhold, super-shiny hair gel and squeezed some into my hands. I rubbed the goo together to get it evenly distributed on my hands before running it through my hair. Like always, I never needed that much, because my hair had the uncanny ability to fall directly into whatever way I wanted it to. I ran one of my hands through my hair to tousle it lightly and I glanced in the mirror. My hair couldn't have looked better if it was sculpted from stone. Perfect.

I was about to leave the bathroom when I realized I didn't brush my teeth. It was one delay after the other this morning...

I scrubbed my teeth slowly, purposely taking my time to clean every tooth and cranny. Not because I was worried about gum disease or anything like that. It was mostly just to irritate Gus. And it worked.

"_Shawn!_"

It was my turn to laugh, and laugh I did, "I'm coming," I yelled back between chuckles.

I spit the residue into the sink and walked back into my room, a smile on my face. For some reason, Gus' annoyance put me in a good mood. Go figure.

It took me a minute to find my sneakers; one was next to the bathroom door, the other was all the way on the other side of the room. I grabbed the one closest to me and tried to slip it on as I hopped toward the other one. Slamming my foot to the floor, it flowed nicely into my sneaker and I bent down to grab the other one. I bent my right leg over my left one, so that my foot was resting on my knee, and I pulled the rubber shoe on.

There. I was ready. Sadly.

I exited my fortress of not-enough-sleep-itude and walked into the living room, where Gus now stood by a blank TV.

"Finally, I thought you were never going to get ready." I saw his eyes take in my appearance and he sighed, "What are you wearing? And did you even brush your hair?"

"Does it look like I did?" I questioned innocently.

"No."

I shrugged, "Then yes."

I could see Gus hold back the urge to through his arms up in frustration, "I don't understand why you don't do your hair like a normal person. The 'I-Just-Got-Out-Of-Bed-And-Was-Too-Lazy-To-Brush-My-Hair' look is getting old, Shawn."

Rolling my eyes, I sighed, "More than half of Santa Barbara wears their hair like this, thank you very much."

"Yeah," Gus agreed, but since this was Gus, he had an edge to his voice that probably meant he was about to insult me, "The group that's anywhere from five to eighteen."

I so called that.

And since he started it, I felt the need to continue it, "You're just jealous because you don't have any hair."

He looked taken aback and then he looked downright irritated. He scoffed, "For your information, I _do_ have hair, Shawn. It's just really short. It's a style."

I shook my head from side to side sadly, "Dude, no. That is not a style, that's a cry for help. Now this," I gestured upwards toward my almost professionally styled hair, "_This_ is style. One I like to think I invented. It is also awesome, but I'm sure you already knew that."

Apparently, he did not because he hurled the remote at me. It was a good thing I had the reflexes of a cat, because I ducked just before it hit me in the forehead. I heard it crash behind me, probably into a billion little pieces.

"Dude!" I shouted, offended, as I turned around to survey the damage, "Aw, man," I bent down and picked up the shattered black pieces that used to be my remote and the two double A batteries that had flown out of it. I held the carnage in my hands as I looked back at Gus, "Now how am I supposed to turn the TV on?"

"Here's an idea: You could_ get up _and do it!" He folded his arms over his chest and stared at me, probably daring me to say something else.

Which is exactly what I did.

"Get up and do it?" I looked at him like he was crazy, "Dude, this isn't the stone age. The TV came with a remote for a reason. If we were meant to get up and turn the TV on manually, they wouldn't have included it in the box."

"Oh yeah? Then why does the TV have the same controls the remote does, Shawn?"

"In case people lose the remote, Gus. Which I did not."

Gus rolled his eyes, "Why are you acting like a baby? Just get a new one."

"Well, the remote had a warranty, but I don't think that covers it being used as a weapon to kill its owner."

"It might."

I narrowed my eyes, "You're so getting me a new remote."

"I am not, Shawn. This is not my fault."

"You threw it at me! I'd agree with you if I'd attacked myself with it, but we both know that didn't happen."

I watched as Gus stared at me blankly, obviously trying to hold back his anger, and walked right passed me to the door. He swiftly grabbed the doorknob, pulled the door open, and left.

"Aw, come on, dude," I ran out of the apartment after him, making sure _I_ closed the door after myself, unlike someone who will remain nameless, "You don't have to buy me a new remote!" I shouted to his back, "I'll settle for some milk!"

By the time I got outside, Gus was sitting behind the wheel of his little blue car, seemingly calmed down.

"Could you drag your feet a little more, Shawn?" He grumbled as I made my way into the car.

I thought about that for a moment, "Yes, I could, but that would be rude of me."

Gus' response was to shift the car into drive and go.

Well, it could've been worse. He could've thrown the steering wheel at me.

We drove in silence for the first minute or so, because by then, I was going stir-crazy. I reached for the power button on the radio but Gus slapped my hand away. He didn't even take his eyes off the road to do it.

"Come on, man. It's too quiet in here."

"It's not quiet enough," he replied in monotone.

I leaned my head back against the headrest and closed my eyes. I hated the silence and I really wanted to listen to some music right now.

"Gus."

"What, Shawn?"

"If I give you a quarter, will you turn the radio on?"

"No."

I sighed, opening my eyes and turning to face him, "What about a cookie? I know how much you like those."

"No, Shawn."

"Why not, dude? I offered you a quarter _and_ a cookie, what more could you possibly want?"

He was quiet for a second, his eyes never leaving the road. Then suddenly, I saw a slight smile appear on his face. That made me happy. And terrified.

"I want that new big screen TV they have Sears. The one with _three_ remotes."

Now, I don't know if that was a rib intended for me or if he was trying to show off - it was probably both - but either way, it wasn't in my power to get that TV for my best friend. Let alone myself.

"Would you settle for a new air freshener?"

The smile that had previously occupied Gus' face changed before I could even blink, "How does an air freshener constitute as a substitute for a plasma screen, Shawn?"

"It...doesn't? But, it's the thought that counts, right?"

"Wrong."

"Oh. Well, then." I was slightly offended, "Well, Mr. Grumpy Pants, I was going to get you a smoothie later but now, I don't think I will." I folded my arms over my chest like a child and turned toward the window.

"Fine, I don't want your damn smoothie."

Without moving, I let my eyes sneak over at Gus, "It was going to be a large with one of those sweet bendy straws."

I noticed him shift slightly.

"And," I edged on, "I was even thinking of getting you a munchkin."

For the first time this whole trip, Gus turned to look at me, "I want an extra large smoothie and a doughnut, none of that pansy munchkin stuff."

I turned back to look at him and grinned, "Whatever you say, buddy."

His eyes re-focused on the road as he said, almost as an afterthought, "Make that two doughnuts."

"Okay," I agreed, shaking my head, slightly amused, "Two doughnuts for my frosting covered amigo."

"You know that's right."

Ten minutes later, after pulling into the drive-thru of a Dunkin' Donuts, Gus was happy with his smoothie and I was happy with my own. Gus had his doughnuts and even though he was against the baby munchkins they offered, I got some anyway. I don't know what was wrong with Gus, they were absolutely delicious.

We pulled in front of my dad's house about five minutes later and found him sitting on the porch, a look of pure anger covering every inch of his face.

"Where the hell have you two been?" He practically yelled as we came walking toward him, smoothies in hand, "And what the hell is that crap?"

"It's not crap, Dad. It's delicious. Want some?" I held my giant cup out for him. He glared at it and smacked it out of my hands before I even knew what was happening. I was appalled. And shocked.

"That's..." I trailed off, my voice full of pain and barely above a whisper.

Dad rolled his eyes as he walked passed us and over to his car, "As soon as we get back, you're cleaning that up. I don't care if it takes you all day."

I looked over at Gus who just shrugged in response.

"Well?" Gus and I both turned to see my father waiting expectantly by the driver's side of his truck.

"Well, what? I thought you wanted to talk to us. I wasn't aware we were going on a trip."

My dad's hand flew to his face, obviously frustrated, "Just get in the damn car." I waited until he was seated inside to start toward the truck, afraid he might attack me if I got too close.

"You're sitting next to him," I whispered to Gus as we hurried down the sidewalk.

"Nu uh. He's _your_ dad, _you_ sit next to him."

"There's less likely a chance he'll kill you. Me he has no problem with, witnesses or not."

Gus gave me that silent look that meant he was standing firm with his decision.

Figures the worst day of my life would be my last.

I opened the door hesitantly and took a deep breath before I got in and slid next to my dad. I looked over and smiled warily at him. His face was blank.

I nearly jumped when Gus shut the door and I heard Gus chuckle lowly next to me.

"So, um," I started, ever so carefully, not risking a glance at my dad, "Where are we going?"

As usual, when my dad was really ticked off, he spoke in an even, indifferent voice. This time was no different. "Lunch."


End file.
